


there's an endless road

by runphoebe



Series: Brothers Verse [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Blow Jobs, First Time, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest, Underage Sex, sex tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 02:59:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7600801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runphoebe/pseuds/runphoebe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Jonny's senses feel overloaded the way they always do around Patrick: the rhythmic rotations of the ceiling fan, the clicking swallow of his own throat, the crinkle of the aluminum can in his hand - they all magnify with each inch Patrick bridges between them. The adolescent boy smell that wafts off Patrick makes his head spin, all thick with sweat and that sweet, clean body odor he carries around.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	there's an endless road

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saudades](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saudades/gifts).



> This fic deals with the incestuous relationship between Patrick and Jonny. They are half-brothers (same father, different mothers), but they have been raised together as brothers, and Jonny often refers to Donna as his mother too, even though she is not. There are many mentions of the incestuous nature of the relationship during explicit moments throughout the fic. 
> 
> This fic also deals with a fairly significant age gap and extreme underage sex. Patrick is a rising high school freshman (14, turning 15 in a few months), and Jonny is a rising college freshman (just turned 18 a few months before). Patrick is often depicted as trying to convince Jonny to act on his desires and Jonny feels guilty about Patrick's young age, but also sexualizes it. 
> 
> This was prompted by a lovely anon on tumblr who asked how I imagined Jonny and Patrick getting together in this verse. I squealed over the prospect of imagining this and then immediately went brain dead and had to turn to [kaneoodle](kaneoodle.tumblr.com) for help and inspiration, so this fic largely exists because of her. She is the man behind the mask.

It’s late summer and Jonny’s never been more frustrated with his parents for trying to save money by keeping the AC turned off during the day. It’s hit at least ninety every day for the past week and the lazy whirrs of the overhead fans aren’t nearly enough to combat the stiflingly thick air pervading Jonny’s house. It makes him sluggish, body hesitant to expend energy on anything besides sprawling on the couch, and, even worse, it makes it impossible to avoid Patrick.

Patrick, who’s currently sunning on the back porch with an ice pop and his cell phone, clingy little swim trunks pulled up to reveal an expanse of bare, pale thigh. Jonny’s torn between wanting to coat him in another layer of sunscreen so he doesn’t whine when his tender skin is all sensitive to the touch later, and wanting to bury his face between those thighs. His body is still so young and sweet, carrying reminders of his pubescence in the softness of his tummy, so much less muscled than Jonny’s own, and his slim shoulders and hips.

He’s taken to lounging around half naked all summer, never far from Jonny’s eyeline and preening when he catches Jonny’s gaze stuck on him, and it’s unfair as hell that Jonny’s not immune yet to the puffiness of his nipples or the dangerously low dip of his shorts.

Jonny’s snapped out of his reverie by Patrick signalling for him from the porch. “Jonny,” he calls, needy. Jonny huffs, irritated that he can’t stop himself from rising from the couch and trudging barefoot across the hot planks of the deck to stand over Patrick, like he’s at his beck and call. “Jonnyyy,” Patrick calls again, eyes shaded behind a pair of douchey aviator sunglasses, apparently displeased with how slowly Jonny’s moving.

“What, asshole?” Jonny tries to say meanly, reaching out to ruffle Patrick’s sweat-damp hair. Instead, it comes out cloyingly fond, fingers tangling in the messy mop of curls atop Patrick’s head. Christ, the things Patrick does to him. “I got shit to do, y’know, I’m trying to pack.”

“No you’re not,” Patrick grins, pushing up into the pressure of Jonny’s hand. Jonny snatches it away and Patrick’s smiles flickers briefly into a frown before his expression smooths out. “I can hear you marathoning Parks & Rec in there and you snore when you fall asleep.”

“Do not,” Jonny says grumpily, wishing he had a pair of sunglasses to hide behind as well. There’s nowhere safe for him to look. No matter what, he’s bombarded by the sight of Patrick’s pale thighs exposed nearly to the top, or his chest, starting to burgeon with young, undeveloped muscle, or the sweetness of his face, all dimples and upturned nose. “Did you want something, or did you just want to annoy me?”

Patrick smiles prettily at him. “I’m thirsty,” he says, pouting. “Can you get me a coke?”

Jonny reaches forward and flicks the empty plastic ice pop wrapper, still caught between Patrick’s fingers. “Haven’t you had enough sugar today?” he asks, helpless against imagining the way Patrick’s lips would tug stickily against his if they kissed, coated in syrupy sweet residue.

“Ugh, you’re such a dad,” Patrick answers, rolling his eyes and tossing the plastic wrapper onto the porch. “Except you’re worse than our actual dad.”

“How about a diet?” Jonny asks, dodging the jab Patrick tries to throw at his gut. Jonny’s a lot bigger than Patrick still, so it’s easy to catch his fingers in a tight grip and squeeze once before he drops them. “Hey, fuck off, I’m doing you a favor. Maybe you can get your own diet coke.”

But Patrick knows his strengths, and he knows Jonny’s weaknesses, and he’s good at getting what he wants. “ _Jonny_ ,” he whines, pushing up his sunglasses and making his eyes wide and round. He grins, delighted, when Jonny sighs and steps toward the door. “In a glass with a straw, please!” he calls over his shoulder, apparently ignoring Jonny’s middle finger.

Fuck. The last thing Jonny needs is to watch Patrick drink anything through a straw, sucking it up through his pretty little lips. The ice pops are torture enough. He’s had to escape to his bedroom on more than one occasion to tug his dick out of his pants and pump it through his tight fingers just because he can’t stop picturing Patrick’s mouth suckling on the head the way he suckles on those popsicles. It’s so fucking messed up.

He’s popping the tab on a can of diet coke, getting ready to pour it in a glass for Patrick, when he hears shuffling footsteps coming up behind him.

“Why the fuck’d you make me get this if you were gonna get up yourself?” Jonny quips, glancing over his shoulder at Patrick standing at his back, arms hanging at his sides. He’s just beginning to glow with the pink hint of a sunburn, and Jonny wishes he could soothe his skin with the cool touch of his hands, or maybe rub aloe into it before he has a chance to start peeling.

“Where’re mom and dad?” Patrick asks, peering curiously up at Jonny. At fourteen, he’s not finished growing, but Jonny always thinks he’s going to have a few inches on him. Now he’s nearly a head taller, chin brushing Patrick’s curls when he turns around, leaning back against the counter. He doesn’t know if it’s unintentional that Patrick’s standing so close, but,  _shit_ . He _knows_ Patrick. He doesn’t think it is.

“Went to the city for the day,” Jonny says. His voice is a low murmur, but it still cuts through the hush of the room enough to raise goosebumps on Jonny’s arm. His senses feel overloaded the way they always do around Patrick; the rhythmic rotations of the ceiling fan, the clicking swallow of his own throat, the crinkle of the aluminum can in his hand - they all magnify with each inch Patrick bridges between them. The adolescent boy smell that wafts off Patrick makes his head spin, all thick with sweat and that sweet, clean body odor he carries around. “Getting shit for my dorm, I think.”

Jonny doesn’t know when it developed, this fraught energy between them, and the way he can’t wrestle with Patrick anymore without getting a hard-on. All he knows is that he’s spent all summer listening to his mom and dad coo over how much the high school girls are going to love Patrick’s sweet baby boy face, and it’s fucking miserable. It makes him regretful of everything that’s going to be keeping them apart next year, though he knows separating himself from Patrick will be for Patrick’s own good.

Just another week and he’ll finally be free from the clutches of this obsession.

Patrick’s face twists a little at the reminder that Jonny’s going to be leaving in a matter of days. “Right,” he says miserably. “Keep forgetting I’m starting high school next week.”

“Hey,” Jonny says softly. He reaches out to push a tuft of curls off Patrick’s forehead, unable to stop himself even though he desperately needs to create distance for himself. “What’re you stressing about, man? You’re gonna love high school.” Jonny sighs when Patrick shrugs. “C’mon,” he coaxes. “Even mom and dad think all the girls won’t be able to resist this face,” he tries to joke, pinching Patrick’s chin between his thumb and forefinger.

Patrick’s eyebrows draw up in a frown. “Yeah? What about the boys?” he asks. “You think all the boys will think I’m pretty, too?”

The idea of it hits Jonny like a punch to the gut. He knows it’s exactly what Patrick’s going for, but that doesn’t make it any less difficult to stomach - picturing his baby brother with another guy. Patrick letting another guy touch his curls, or his lips, or his perfect little nipples. Christ, letting another guy teach him how to take a cock in his mouth, or being the first one to finger his sweet, virgin hole. He thinks he’d fucking lose it if he came home for winter break and saw Patrick toting around some hot senior guy.

Allowing himself to have what he wants with Patrick, and what Patrick thinks he wants with him, feels so shamefully selfish to Jonny. But the thought of depriving them both of it and losing Patrick to someone who doesn’t deserve him - that’s fucking ruinous. Jonny feels like he’s caught between two eventualities conspiring to result in his mutually assured destruction. God, what this fucking kid does to him.

“Peeks,” Jonny says in a plea, gripping his hands tight on the counter behind him so he won’t touch. “You can’t - teenage guys are assholes,” he says, like they both don’t fit that bill themselves. “You can’t let them -”

“Why do you even care?” Patrick asks sullenly. He’s pouty, irritated that Jonny’s not just giving him what he wants without argument, and a little embarrassed, Jonny guesses from the flush spreading down his cheeks. “You’re not my mom, why do you care who I’m fucking?”

Jonny’s stomach twists again, and he’s helpless this time as his hands unclench from the countertop and curl around Patrick’s waist, tugging him minutely closer to Jonny’s body. They’ve drifted together in increments, Patrick’s legs fitted in the width of space between Jonny’s thighs, upper body surrounded by the breadth of Jonny’s chest and shoulders. Patrick’s nearly boxing him in where Jonny’s leaning against the counter, but Jonny’s got so much size on him that it feels more like he’s caging Patrick where he stands.

“I care,” he tells Patrick, ducking to murmur the sentiment against Patrick’s temple, drawing his hands up the back of his arms as he shivers. There’s more to say, he’s certain, but instead he just drags his lips over the curve of Patrick’s cheekbone, settling at the corner of his mouth. “I care,” he says again, pulling away as far as Patrick will allow to gaze intently at him. It’s hard for Jonny to convey the depth of his emotions in words at times, but he thinks the gentle press of his mouth against Patrick’s is a big help. He cradles Patrick’s face in his hands as he continues giving him the lightest brushing kisses, grounding himself in the solidity of Patrick’s body engulfed in his.

It destroys every boundary he’s erected over the summer in one fell swoop, but Jonny can’t stop himself. He’s spent months convincing himself that he’s dangerous for Patrick, but better him than some fucking stranger, right? At least he cares about Patrick. At least he’d treat Patrick’s body like the precious thing that it is.

“No, you don’t,” Patrick insists, even as he accepts Jonny’s kisses so beautifully. “All summer, I tried- and you - you didn’t want me. You just ignored me.”

Jonny’s head is spinning with how incorrectly Patrick’s been reading the situation; how he must’ve been riding every last ounce of his self-confidence to keep flirting with Jonny when he thought Jonny wasn’t interested. He’s gentle as he tangles his fingers in the short curls at the base of Patrick’s skull, but firm as he tilts his head back, forcing Patrick to meet his gaze. “If wanting you was the only thing that mattered,” he says, guiding Patrick’s hand to his half-hard dick, letting him feel what he does to Jonny. “I never would’ve been able to stay away from you for this long.”

He knows it’s wrong, diving headlong into this, but he can’t live in a world where Patrick thinks Jonny doesn’t want him.

“ _Jonny_ ,” Patrick whines, gasping into it when Jonny thumbs his chin down to drag him into a deep kiss, allowing himself to explore the sweetness of Patrick’s mouth with careful flicks of his tongue. He tastes like cherry ice pop and coconut lip sunscreen and his lips are sticky and chapped, oddly rough against Jonny’s own. The tentative flickers of his tongue against Jonny’s send spasms of pleasure rocketing up Jonny’s spine. “Please, I want - I want -” Patrick moans, grinding into Jonny’s leg. Jonny becomes abruptly aware of the hard press of Patrick’s dick against his thigh. It isn’t surprising. He’s fourteen - he gets hard from a well timed gust of air - but it still throws everything into shocking focus.

Jonny’s able to ignore his own pulsing erection for just long enough to consider prying Patrick off of him, sending him to his room and forcing them to avoid each other for the rest of the day, but he’s too fucking selfish. He wants this as badly as Patrick, and he’s so much closer to having it than he ever thought he’d be.

“Okay, okay, shh,” Jonny says, smoothing Patrick’s mussed hair from his face. The desperation blowing Patrick’s eyes wide makes him look every bit of fourteen and untouched, craving contact on his sensitive dick in that childish teenage boy way, like after they discover how to make themselves come and can’t stop doing it. Jonny’s not far removed from that age, but he feels infinitely beyond it, so separated from Patrick in the breadth of their experience. What he wants from Patrick and what Patrick want to give him may align, but what Patrick’s capable of giving of himself might be another story.

Patrick flushes under Jonny’s gaze, lunging up to capture him in another series of stiflingly hot kisses. He’s eager and sloppy, but Jonny slows him with a hand on his jaw, moving his mouth measuredly against Patrick’s.

“Oh, god,” Patrick cries when Jonny reaches for the velcro of his swim trunks, opening them enough to expose his cock. Jonny’s not surprised that he’s just as pretty here as he is everywhere else, cock and balls flushed pink where they’re nestled in a shock of blonde hair, thick and temptingly wet for Jonny’s mouth. “Oh, _god_ , Jonny, I’m -” Patrick breaks off in a whine when Jonny reaches between them to palm at his cock.

Jonny’s only eighteen. He’s not fucked many people, and he knows a few of them were virgins when they hooked up, but he’s never felt anything like the headrush he gets when he realizes this is the first time Patrick’s ever had an unfamiliar hand on his hard dick.

“I’m - shit, I’m gonna -” Patrick moans, jerking inelegantly against Jonny. His cock jumps in Jonny’s hand, swelling slightly as Jonny strokes it, signalling his fast approaching orgasm. Jonny remembers that: not being able to hold on for more than a few minutes at a time, but also having basically no refractory period. He bets Patrick will hardly even soften up before he’s ready to go again.

Patrick has tears in his eyes when he blinks up at Jonny, biting a vicious white line into his lower lip, like he’s trying to hold back the inevitable reaction of his body. “Hey, hey,” Jonny murmurs, fitting his thigh more securely between Patrick’s legs so Patrick’s balls can ride up against it while Jonny jacks him off. “You’re okay, Patrick, it’s fine,” he promises, own cock throbbing sympathetically when a spurt of precome leaks onto the webs of his fingers. Jesus, how badly he wants to put Patrick on his back and kneel over him, jerking off onto his perfectly smooth abdomen.

“But I wanted - I wanted _more_ ,” Patrick demands insistently, like he’s embarrassed and angry that his body is forcing this to be over so quickly. Jonny is so overwhelmed with fondness that he has to duck and capture Patrick’s lips in a kiss that grows instantly deeper when Patrick moans and opens his mouth for the intrusion of Jonny’s tongue.

“It’s fine,” he promises again, feathering kisses lightly across the underside of Patrick’s jawline. He’s careful not to do anything that might leave a mark, but Patrick seems to like when he scrapes his teeth along the sensitive hollow beneath his ear and down the tendony curve of his throat. “Pat, we have time. Let go for me, okay? Whatever you want, we have time.”

This only makes Patrick start crying harder, which wracks Jonny’s body with immeasurable guilt, but Patrick melts into him, a deadweight in his arms as he gives himself over to the pleasure Jonny’s demanding from him with each pass of his hand over Patrick’s cock. “Oh, oh, oh, _god_ ,” he pants, hips thrusting jerky and unpracticed into Jonny’s hold.

“Let me see you come, baby,” Jonny says, the endearment slipping easily from his lips as he tucks Patrick’s face protectively into his chest, distantly aware of the moisture soaking through the cotton of his t-shirt. “You know how long I’ve wanted this?” he asks, pushing his own erection against Patrick’s hip so he can feel how affected Jonny is by the sight of Patrick’s desire. His whole body floods with shame at the way that makes Patrick open his mouth and pant wetly into Jonny’s shirt, clinging desperately to his biceps. “You know how long I’ve had to stare at your pretty body, wishing I could touch you like this? Lemme see you come, baby,” he says again.

“ _Fuck_ , coming, coming,” Patrick wails, come pouring in hot waves over Jonny’s fingers, tangling up all sticky and warm in the webs of them. He strokes Patrick through the aftershocks until his come tugs uncomfortably at the sensitive skin of his sweet cock, and he makes a little mewling noise, pawing at Jonny’s chest. He’s still hiding his face in Jonny’s shirt, and that’s fine. Jonny’s clean hand rubs in soothing passes over his back while he lets Patrick cling for a while, reaching the short distance to the sink to wet a dish towel and gently wipe up the drying residue from Patrick’s cock and his own hand.

When Patrick finally feels ready to draw himself away from Jonny’s chest, Jonny tilts his chin up for a soft kiss, thumbing at the moisture beneath his eyes. “What’s wrong?” Jonny asks, cradling his face in his hands. Patrick’s skin is still baby-smooth and stubble free beneath Jonny’s calloused palms.

“Nothing,” Patrick says, shuddering when he unintentionally grinds his balls down into Jonny’s thigh again.

“Peeks,” Jonny says, slipping his leg from between Patrick’s and barring his arm around the dip of Patrick’s waist, holding him firm. “Patrick, you’re crying.”

Patrick huffs derisively, looking put out with himself. “It’s not - I just,” he stutters a little, chewing on his fat lower lip, reddening the already swollen, chapped skin. Jonny eases it from between his teeth with his thumb, stroking over the abused surface of it once. “I wanted you to fuck me,” Patrick admits, voice small as he pointedly meets Jonny’s gaze.

Jonny’s chest seizes at the thought, throat tightening reflexively as images of Patrick on his knees rush unbidden into Jonny’s mind. He’d be incredible like that, sprawled across Jonny’s sheets on his belly, or opening his body up to take him between his legs. “Jesus, Peeks,” Jonny groans, letting his forehead thunk against the crown of Patrick’s head, nuzzling his curls. “We can’t -”

“You said anything I want,” Patrick reminds him sharply, indignant.

“I know, I know,” Jonny soothes, slipping his palms up the back of his biceps. “Patrick, we can’t - You’re so little,” he says, talking over Patrick’s protests. “No, hey, listen. Your body is so little, baby, you’re so much smaller than me. You gotta be patient with what your body can take, okay?”

Patrick’s glare is softening, but he still says, “I can take it, c’mon, Jonny, I want it.”

It’s goddamn torturous, listening to a sex-flushed fourteen year old boy insist that he can take Jonny’s cock, and having to say no. Jonny’s not certain how he drags the self-restraint up from the depths of his being when all he wants is to turn Patrick on his back and get him open for his big cock. “I’m not saying never, Peeks,” he promises. “I’m just saying not now.”

“Why don’t you want it?” Patrick asks sullenly.

Jonny laughs, surprised. “Kiddo, you’re fucking crazy if you think I don’t want to get my cock in your tight little ass as soon as I can,” he says, shaking his head at Patrick. “We’re gonna get you there, yeah? You gotta let me take my time with it.”

Patrick doesn’t look convinced, but eventually he nods jerkily, like he isn’t just as overcome with the image of training his ass to take Jonny’s cock as Jonny is.

“Hey,” Jonny says, tugging him in. “Come here, baby. C’mere.”

*

It turns out that Patrick’s spent just as much time fantasizing about sucking Jonny’s dick as Jonny’s spent about getting Patrick’s mouth on him. He proves this when Jonny bundles him over to the couch and lets him curl up next to his lap, thumbing the button on his shorts open and unzipping just enough to tug his hard dick out for Patrick’s eager mouth.

“That’s it,” Jonny praises when Patrick mouths at the head. He sucks cock like it’s a welcome intrusion in his mouth, even though Jonny’s big and Patrick can’t take him very deep. Just the sight of his sweet lips splitting themselves wetly over the thick head makes Jonny exhale shakily as he catches his fingers in Patrick’s mop of hair. His inexperience shows in the thick beads of saliva that drip down Jonny’s cock and the sloppy wet inhales he has to drag through his mouth, but that just makes Jonny’s gut clench even tighter in arousal.

When he looks up at Jonny with his wide, blue eyes, lips pursed around the crown of his dick, Jonny groans and tugs him off, jacking himself until he spills over the wet redness of Patrick’s mouth. Patrick’s tongue flickers out to test a thick white globule of come resting at the corner of his mouth and his lips twist into a grimace. Jonny laughs, tugging him up to straddle his lap.

“I thought I’d like it,” Patrick says, like he’s offended with his own taste buds. “It’s bitter.”

“Got time to get used to that, too,” Jonny says, between cleaning Patrick’s face with long strokes of his tongue. “Got lots and lots of time.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! :)
> 
> come chill with me on the [tumblr](runphoebe.tumblr.com) where I'm currently having an emotional breakdown over the fact that pkane uploaded a photo of his own butt profile to twitter


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